but the soul remains
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: Do you think love still remains after death? :: Edgar, Fabian, and their family.


Quidditch League, Round 8, Puddlemere United: BEATER 2: Six of Swords — Reversed: Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Issues, Resisting Transition, optional prompts: [action] To spill something/knock something over, [object] Flask

Hogwarts' Writing Club: Disney Challenge: Dialogue 5. "I'm really gonna miss you. I love you, [Name].", All Sorts of Space: 2 - Venus - (relationship) Lovers, Book Club - Rafe: (plot point) comforting someone, (word) laughter, (object) apron, Showtime: History Has Its Eyes On You: (emotion) regret, Amber's Attic 44 - "[Name], come back to sleep.",

Southern Funfair: Test Your Strength - Average: Marauder Era, Northern Funfair: Splash a Mod - Liza: (Era) Marauder, Eastern Funfair: Pie Eating Contest - Cherry: (genre) romance.

_Word count:_ 2680

_**but the soul remains**_

.i.

Fabian isn't exactly one for Ministry parties. He tends to find himself either feeling dreadfully bored or immensely out of place, or, in some occasions, both.

But Edgar likes them. He's in his element here, diving between guests and flattering individuals until even the people Fabian knows to dislike him are laughing with him. It's honestly a wonder he ever was a Hufflepuff with political instincts like these, but Fabian can't even be anything less than appreciative, as he doubts he and Edgar would have even met had they been anything but what they were.

Besides, he enjoys watching Edgar like this. It's… fascinating, and oddly appealing — which Edgar fully knows, since he keeps sending Fabian sly glances every so often.

Fabian smiles back at every one of them helplessly, sipping at champagne to hide his red cheeks.

"You two are sickening," Marlene tells him in a drawl, and Fabian is embarrassed to realize he'd lost track of their conversation. Again.

"Sorry," he replies, even though he isn't _really_ sorry.

Marlene snorts and shakes her head. She's younger than him and Edgar both, but they've been friends for years anyway, and she's settled somewhere between best friend and annoying little sister for him — even though Fabian already has one annoying little sister and never wanted a _second_ one.

"It's fine. I'm glad you're happy. Especially with everything going on," she says, waving her hand vaguely through the air. It could mean 'the war' or simply Edgar's family pushing him to find a wife and pop out kids (not that they'd ever come out and say it like that, but it's pretty obvious nonetheless), and Fabian huffs out a tired laugh.

"Thanks."

Fabian's about to ask her to resume their previous conversation — something about her preparing to join the Unspeakables, if he recalls correctly — when Marlene's eyes go wide.

"Oh," she says, and Fabian's heart skips a beat.

"What is it?" He turns to follow her gaze, and sure enough, he finds Edgar.

He's laughing with a woman Fabian doesn't recognize as she tries to pat down his robes. They're too far to hear their conversation, but Fabian can guess at what happened well enough — the woman tripped and spilled her drink all over Edgar, who took it jovially as he takes most everything.

She's so clearly apologetic about it that Fabian almost wants to laugh too, but...

But he can't, because he recognizes that laugh. He knows what the look on Edgar's face means.

Somebody nudges his arm, and when he turns back, Marlene is looking at him knowingly.

"Go," she says, nudging him again.

"I shouldn't."

"You definitely should," Marlene retorts, already pushing him onward.

She waves at Edgar too, whose grin widens as he gestures Fabian over.

"Traitor," he hisses back at Marlene, who just laughs it off.

"You can thank me later."

Fabian tries to glare at her, but Marlene's already wandered off, and Fabian has no choice but to walk over to Edgar.

He grabs a new glass on the way, his own still half-full. He comes to a stop next to Edgar, and hands Edgar the glass, plucking the empty one from his fingers. Their hands brush and Edgar shivers, just a little.

Fabian bites back a smug smirk, and simply smiles back innocently when Edgar sends him a mock-annoyed glare that says he is not fooled at all by Fabian's attempts at discretion.

Too bad Fabian isn't exactly trying to be discreet.

"Won't you introduce me?"

Edgar sighs. "Fabian, this is Elizabeth White. Elizabeth, this is Fabian."

Elizabeth's face brightens. "Oh, you're an Auror, right? Edgar was just talking about you." Her smile widens even further, and oh, but it's so easy to see why Edgar already seems to like her.

"Yes, I am," Fabian replies, arching an eyebrow quizzically at Edgar before refocusing on Elizabeth. "Why, were you interested in joining the Department?"

Elizabeth laughs. It is a lovely sound, really, clear like a bell and reminiscent of spring somehow. "Oh no, I couldn't. But I was telling Edgar about this neighbor I have who…" She winces. "Well, he just mentioned I should maybe have the Aurors look into it, and he mentioned you."

The conversation remains oddly pleasant after that, and Fabian surprises himself by laughing several times. Elizabeth is just… nice. A lovely woman, really, and bright too, who doesn't hesitate to help Fabian tease Edgar when the man mentions how he'd spent years hopelessly pining for Fabian from afar when the subject comes up.

Fabian likes her. It's an unexpected revelation.

The party draws to an end and they bid each other goodbye, Elizabeth promising to drop by Fabian's office for a formal complaint against that neighbor of hers, and then it's just the two of them again.

Suddenly, the room seems less bright.

"You like her," Fabian says, struggling to swallow past a suddenly bitter taste in his mouth.

Edgar blinks. "What?"

"You like her," Fabian repeats, willing himself not to feel hurt, telling the obnoxious little voice whispering in his head that he and Edgar could never last. He'd thought he'd been rid of it.

Edgar comes to a stop. They're almost to the atrium and the fireplaces exits, but they'd been amongst the last to stay at the party, so it's almost empty but for a few stragglers hurrying to their homes.

"She's nice," Edgar replies, frowning like he can't see Fabian's point — and maybe he can't. "I thought you liked her too?"

"I did. I do." Fabian's mouth dries up as he struggles to find the right words to express what he feels about Elizabeth — but there are no right words here, not really. "I just…" He swallows and looks away. "Am I not enough for you?"

Edgar gasps. His hand on Fabian's cheek is soft as he nudges Fabian to look at him again. "Hey, no, none of that. Of course you're enough for me." He smiles, though his eyes look a little sad. "I love you, remember? I just thought… She was nice, wasn't she? And she liked you."

"She liked _you,"_ Fabian counters, though his lips are already quirking up into a small smile."

"So she liked us both." Edgar shrugs, and that's that.

.ii.

Elizabeth is frightfully easy to love, with her bright smiles and brighter laughs, and when Edgar suggests she moves in, she settles between them like she's always been there.

Nothing changes until it does.

It's a Saturday morning. Lazy and quiet, since for once none of them have to work, and it's Elizabeth's time to cook breakfast. She's wearing Fabian's pink apron — a joke gift from Gideon that Elizabeth adopted as her own — and humming a wordless tune as the bacon sizzles on the grill and the pancakes cook.

Edgar stares at her, besotted, as he blearily sips his coffee, and Fabian just smiles at them both, bright and chipper even though both his lovers insist it is too early for that attitude.

Once they're done, the food floats over to the table, and Elizabeth sits down.

Edgar starts eating almost immediately — he's surprisingly hopeless in the mornings — but Fabian pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth.

Elizabeth hasn't moved. She's grinning, though, a bright and wide thing threatening to split her face in two as she practically vibrates in her seat.

She winks at Fabian and waits until Edgar's taking another sip of his coffee to speak. "I'm pregnant."

"You're what?" Fabian hears himself say, as though from a great distance, while Edgar chokes and spits his drink all over himself.

Elizabeth laughs, conjuring a paper towel for Edgar to use. "I'm pregnant," she repeats.

Fabian feels faint — and judging from Edgar's sudden pallor, so does he.

"Really?"

"Really," Elizabeth confirms, her smile softening.

Fabian can see the moment it hits Edgar. His eyes go wide and his mouth falls open. Fabian doesn't think he's ever seen him this happy, but he can't even reflect on that, because he's not doing any better.

"We're having a baby," he says in a laugh.

Her eyes shining, Elizabeth nods. "We are." She reaches over the table and grabs Fabian's right hand with hers. With her left, she takes Edgar's.

"We're having a baby," Edgar echoes faintly.

Fabian feels so happy he could burst — but also unspeakably worried.

That night, Edgar waits until Elizabeth is asleep to talk to Fabian.

"Your thing — Dumbledore's Order. I want to join in. I need the future to be safe for our children."

Fabian's blood runs cold, and he hides his hands under the covers so Edgar won't see them shake. "You shouldn't. It isn't safe. Your kids will need you."

But Edgar's eyes are as hard as diamonds. "Our kids," he corrects. "And they'll need _us._ If I don't go with you, who'll watch your back?"

"I have Gideon," Fabian retorts, but he gives a quiet, fond laugh anyway. "I'll be fine. Besides, we both know I'm a better fighter than you — _I'd_ end up watching your back."

Edgar pouts, but not for long. The silence turns weighted, and eventually, Fabian sighs. It feels hard to breathe. "I can't change your mind, can I?"

Edgar smiles and shakes his head. "No."

"Fine," Fabian relents. "I'll bring you with me to the next meeting."

"Th—"

"Don't thank me," Fabian interrupts, and Edgar swallows back the words.

.iii.

The war is coming to an end and their friends are dropping like mayflies around them. Fabian is terrified Edgar or Gideon or Marlene — or Merlin forbid, Molly and her husband — will be next, but he can't stop fighting.

It's probably hopeless, but he can't give in — even though each day makes it more and more obvious that they are losing.

Fabian feels like his life is spinning out of control, and the only thing that keeps him afloat are Edgar and Elizabeth and the kids, and even them he can't keep safe forever.

Still, because sometimes even a lion can be cowardly, he lets his lovers press kisses to his skin and does the same to them — ardent, urgent kisses that he wishes he could turn into something tangible, something that'd keep them safe.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he tells them, a litany he could speak forever.

It's not enough.

It feels like he's running out of time.

.iv.

The day Edgar gets a Patronus from Fabian is cold and humid, with dark clouds rolling up above. It hasn't rained yet, but it will. Edgar can feel it.

Fabian's Patronus is a shiny, silvery badger — "That's you," Fabian had said teasingly when he'd showed it off, and Elizabeth had laughed before kissing Edgar's burning cheeks. "Fabian's not wrong, dear, it _is_ you," she'd said over his splutters.

It only speaks one word, in Fabian's familiar voice. "_Run."_

Edgar's heart sinks, because this can't mean anything good but he springs to his feet. If he can't trust Fabian, he can't trust anyone.

He shouts for Elizabeth and the kids, and then they run.

It takes them two Portkeys and three different Apparitions to get to the meeting point they'd agreed to with Fabian.

It's a small house that actually belongs to Elizabeth's family, but they've made it untraceable. Nobody but them even knows about it, but they can never be too safe.

"Where's Dad?" the kids ask when they finally get there. They're scared, and so is Elizabeth, who gathers them up into her arms as she shoots Edgar a questioning and worried look.

Edgar desperately wants to tell them he's coming, of course he is, but Fabian was always against lying to them.

Voicing his doubt is still too horrible a thing, so he doesn't say anything and just joins Elizabeth in holding them tight.

Fabian never comes.

That night, it storms.

(The war ends, but Fabian is dead — they have to bury an empty casket.

Somehow, that makes it worse.)

.v.

_The three of them are sitting on a beach. It's their not-honeymoon — Fabian had insisted Elizabeth and Eggar get married, but Elizabeth had joked they should toss a coin about it, and in the end, there had been no wedding at all, just this not-honeymoon, a spot of sunlight in an endless war._

_Edgar's laughing. He doesn't know about what, but Elizabeth is laughing too. She kisses him first, her lips tasting of pineapple, and then Fabian next, before going into the sea at a run._

_He blinks, and then Fabian is kissing him. It's sugary sweet too, and Edgar closes his eyes, because something is telling him he needs to hold onto this moment, only…_

_When he opens his eyes, Fabian is gone. He's in the water, next to Elizabeth, and he laughs loudly before diving under._

_He doesn't resurface, but the water turns red, and Edgar's lips taste like copper and salt._

Edgar wakes up from the nightmare heaving and drenched in sweat, a sob stuck in his throat.

He's up and pacing before he's even awake to know he's doing it, his hands shaking until he downs a calming draught, its flask cold and hard in his hand.

He lets the chemical calm wash over him, but all it really does is make him sick to his stomach as his grief falls further away, just out of reach.

"Edgar?" Elizabeth's voice sounds sleepy, and Edgar's heart twinges with guilt. "Are you alright?"

He hurries to her side, falling to his knees. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you, go back to sleep," he whispers, bent over the bed.

The sheets ruffle. "Come back to bed."

"I can't," Edgar replies, voice choked up.

Elizabeth sits up. In the darkness, her eyes shine. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Edgar does and he doesn't, and the paradox makes his lungs burn. "I just… I keep thinking that he might come back, that he isn't really…"

His voice dies in his throat, but there is no need to say a name.

"I should have gone after him," he says, even though it would have been stupid and pointless and Edgar had had a family to keep safe — or rather, part of one.

He heaves a trembling, wet breath, and as he crumbles against her, she wraps her arms around him. When she kisses his forehead, it feels like an absolution he doesn't deserve.

"I'm glad you didn't," she says and he jerks in her arms. "And Fabian would be too."

Edgar gives a wet laugh. "He would be. What an asshole."

Her arms tighten around him. "I miss him too, you know. You don't have to grieve alone — I know you knew him longer, but…" She bites her lips. "I loved him too."

"I know."

There is a pregnant pause, before, "Do you think he knew too?" she asks, and the hesitation in her voice kills him.

Edgar twists his head to look her in the eyes, and says, "He did. I swear to you, he did."

.vi.

Edgar hates visiting Fabian's grave. Not because it's ugly, or too pretty, or… anything like that, really.

He hates it because it's empty, and cold and dark, and nothing at all like the man he loved. Loves.

His eyes burn and he kicks at the grass. Cold wind rustles through his hair, making him shiver, but Edgar can't be bothered to draw his coat in tighter. He barely feels the cold right now anyway.

"I wish they'd found your body," he confesses, kneeling to set down flowers. It's something he doesn't even dare tell Elizabeth, though he believes she might know anyway. "Maybe then I'd stop hoping for you to come back."

Fabian, predictably, doesn't answer, and Edgar laughs wetly before standing up. His knees crack.

"I'm really gonna miss you. I love you, Fabian."

He leaves quietly, and he doesn't look back — he doesn't have to.

He'll be back next week.


End file.
